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Kraftwerk: Future Music from Germany — the ghost Beatles

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her attentions were directed to an orphan boy. he was her constant companion, and the object of her tenderest solicitude. as he grew up he excelled the youth of his own age in manly exercises; could thrash all of his own size, when insulted, but never played the tyrant, or the bully. he could make the longest innings at cricket, and as for swimming in all its various branches, none could compare with william. it was finally arranged by a merchant to send william a voyage to newfoundland, and the news soon spread round the town that william (for he was a general favourite) was to _see_ the world by taking to the _sea_. the time arrived when the ship was to be warped out from the quay, and to sail for her destination. the crew and the passengers were all on board, and william was, by his absence, rather trespassing on the indulgence of the captain; but who could be angry with the boy whom every body loved? the town gossips, and many a fair maiden, were on the quay to see young william embark. the tide had already turned, and the captain was about to give the word to cast off and let all go; to send the vessel, as it were, adrift, loose and unfettered upon the waters, to struggle as a thing of life with the billows of the atlantic, but animated and controled by the energies of men. just at this moment william appeared at the end of the quay, walking slowly to the scene of embarkation with his kind and benevolent benefactress leaning, and leaning heavily, for her heart was heavy, upon the arm of her dutiful and beloved william. as they approached, the crowd made way with profound respect, not the cringing respect paid to superior wealth, but with that respect which worth of character and innate virtue can and will command, though poverty may smite and desolate. they walked unconscious of the notice they attracted. their hearts were too full to heed the sympathies of others. the youth kept his eye fixed upon the loosening topsails of his ship; his benefactress grasped his arm almost convulsively, and looked, or rather stared, upon the ground. she dreaded the last, the hurried fare well, the last look, the last word from her william, and she tottered as she approached the side of the ship. they stood locked hand in hand at the edge of the quay; not a word was uttered by either; but they gazed at each other with a fondness which showed that their souls were in communion. now, william, jump on boardcast off there forward, exclaimed the captain; swing her head roundheave away my boyscome, william, come my boy. the youth awoke as from a startled sleep. he imprinted a kiss, the last kiss, upon the cold cheeks of his benefactress, and dashing away with the sleeve of his jacket a tear, of which he felt ashamed, in a moment he was on the quarter deck of his commander. he durst not look again upon the quay; but had he looked he would have seen many a weeping maiden who had never told her love, and he would have seen his affectionate benefactress borne away in a fainting fit. all this he saw not, for he braced his courage up before his future messmates, and he looked forward to his duties, considering the past as but a dream. months elapsed and tidings were frequently received of william. he had distinguished himself by his activity and docility. his townsmen heard with pleasure of his good conduct, and looked forward with satisfaction to welcome his return; when at length a pilot boat brought intelligence that the ship was lying at anchor at the mouth of the harbour, waiting the next tide with loss of foremast in a heavy gale the preceding night off the bill of portland. his benefactress, impatient of delay, immediately hired a boat, and preceded to the ship before the tide had turned; but she no sooner reached the deck than she was informed by the captain that william was aloft when the foremast went by the board on the preceding night, and that he fell into the raging waves without the possibility of relief being afforded him. gods will be done, murmured the unhappy woman as she clasped her hands, and taking her station at the gangway, she continued gazing on the water as it rippled by, in a state of unconsciousness to every passing object. in the meantime the vessel was under weigh, and was coming once more in sight of brownsea, when a plunge was heardshes overboard, exclaimed a sailorcut away some sparslower the boatsover with the hen coopsdown with the helm, and back the topsailsroared out many voices; but she had sunk to rise no more! her corpse was found a few days after when the tide receded, lying on a mud bank, close to the buoy which has ever since been known by every sailor and every pilot of poole under the name of old betty. but to complete the sad narrative, it appeared that william, as he excelled in swimming, succeeded in gaining the shore of portland, and arrived in time at poole to attend the remains of his benefactress to the grave in character of chief mourner. on opening her papers it was discovered that in losing his benefactress he had lost his mother! that she had been privately married to a widower of considerable fortune, who had one son by his first wife, and that on his demise the estate would devolve on william, provided his half brother had no children. a few days afterwards the death of henry , esq. of hall, worcestershire, was formally announced in the daily journals, and the unexpected claims of william being acknowledged, he succeeded to a very fine property and estate, and died as much respected in a good old age as he was beloved in his buoyant childhood, when the gossips and the maidens of poole agreed that the orphan boy promised to be a nice young man.and not word of a lie in it, said dick hart, as he finished his story, his pipe, and his grog. we were now steering across studland bay. banks of dark clouds were gathering majestically on the eastern horizon, and the sun was rapidly sinking in a flood of golden light. behind us was the isle of brownsea, with its dark fir plantations and lofty, cold-looking, awkward castle. on the left was the line of low sand hills, stretching away towards christchurch, and seeming to join the needles rocks, situated at the western extremity of the isle of wight, the high chalk cliffs of which reflected the suns last rays, giving a rich and placid feeling to the cold and distant grey. on the right, and closer to us, was the brown and purple heath-land of studland bay. here barren, there patches of verdure, and the thin smoke threading its way from a cluster of trees, denoted where the village hamlet lay embosomed from the storms of the southwest gales, close at the foot and under the shelter of a lofty chalk range which abuts abruptly on the sea, and before which stands a high, detached pyramidical rock, rising out of the waters like a sheeted spectre, and known to mariners under the suspicious name of _old harry_. this coast was once notorious for smuggling, but those days of nautical chivalry have ceased, if dick hart was to be credited, who shook his head very mournfully as he alluded to the _block-head_ service. james silvester. spirit of the public journals. scene from a french drama. no. xvii. of the _foreign quarterly review_, contains a paper of much interest to the playgoer as well as to the lover of dramatic literatureon two french dramas of great celebrity_la maréchale dancre_, by de vigny; and _marion delorme_, by victor hugo. we quote a scene from the former. concini, the principal character, is a favourite of louis xiii.; the maréchale, his wife, has a first love, borgia, a corsican, who, disappointed in his early suit by the stratagems of concini, has married the beautiful but uncultivated isabella monti. on the conflicting feelings of this strange personage, his hatred to the husband, and his relenting towards the wife; and the licentious plans of concini for the seduction of isabella, whom he has seen without knowing her to be the wife of his deadly enemy, the interest of the piece is made to turn. the jealous isabella is at last persuaded that the maréchale has robbed her of the attachment of her husband, and appears as a witness against her on the pretended charge of witchcraft and sorcery. while the maréchal, even in the dungeon of the bastile, is awing her oppressors into silence, bands of murderers are seeking concini through the streets of paris

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